


Of Shadows and Sun

by NacreHeart29



Category: No Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Assassins & Hitmen, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:00:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23616388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NacreHeart29/pseuds/NacreHeart29
Summary: She doesn't belong in the shadows. She doesn't belong in the world he lives in.He's drawn to her anyway. He shouldn't be. It's only a mission. Nothing more.It won't matter in the end, he tells himself, staring at his reflection in the blade. Not anymore, anyway.
Relationships: OFC/OMC
Kudos: 2





	Of Shadows and Sun

**Author's Note:**

> This is just some random idea that's been developing in my head. It's definitely darker than what I normally like to write and contains mentions of violence and seduction, but nothing too explicit. 
> 
> I hope you like it!
> 
> -Jay

He has always lived here. He's always been a part of the Faceless Ones. 

"You are loyal. You are no one but who we want you to be," the Ghost says.

"I am a loyal. I am no one but who we are supposed to be," they repeat. All at the same time. All in the same voice. All with the same blank expression on their faces.

They are many and varied, boys and girls, alphas, omegas, betas. At ten years old, they are split into three groups based on their secondary gender. He is ferried to the omega rooms, along with nineteen others.

"What are they going to do with us?" a girl whispers. He doesn't remember her name. Ashley? Aspen? As-something, he knows.

"I'm not sure," he whispers back, looking towards the girl. She makes a small noise-a mix between a whimper and a sigh.

"Am I going to see Quinn again?" she asks softly. He doesn't say anything but gently lays a hand on her arm and rubs small circles with his thumb. It works to comfort her and she relaxes. 

"Everyone!" the matroness barks. "Listen."

As one, they turn towards her. The girl next to him straightens, her face settling into a blank expression. He faces forwards, forcibly relaxing and staring at the wall behind the matroness.

"This is your new living area," the matroness says. "From now on, things get serious. You are no longer children. You are adults. And you must behave like so."

Her iron gaze sweeps over them. He stares at the wall, not meeting her gaze. His neck prickles.

"There will be no room for mistakes," the matroness continues. "You are expected to do everything we ask and more. Anything less and you will suffer the consequences."

_Her voice is like ice,_ he thinks and fear blooms heavy in his stomach. Still he keeps staring at the wall. 

"From now on, you are in training to become a Faceless One," the matroness says. "Only the best will be permitted. Only the best will survive."

She unlocks the door. "We start tomorrow. No one will come to wake you. Enter."

It's a test, he realizes. It's a test. And he intends to pass it.

* * *

"Seduction is an art," the woman in front of them proclaims. She's wearing a black uniform with white accents. Despite the drab colours, she stands out vividly against the grey walls of the classroom. "Your body is your weapon. Your words are your weapon. You are the magician and they are your loyal servants."

She circles them, eyeing each and every one of them. "You!" she says suddenly, pointing to a blond boy. The boy meets her gaze steadily, but a slight flicker of fear stands out in his blue eyes.

"You are Colin Bram, correct?" she says sharply. Colin nods. 

"Yes ma'am," he says. 

"Good," she says, softening. "I believe you enjoy dancing and music?"

Colin, to his credit, doesn't show a hint of surprise other than a slight widening of his eyes. "Yes, ma'am," he says carefully.

"What if I told you that there would be an audition held at the Obara Theater for the role of a male lead dancer?" she says. "Would you be interested?"

Colin hesitates, unsure about what to say.

"Answer me," she orders, back to sharpness.

"Yes ma'am," Colin says hurriedly, straightening. The woman smiles then, calm once more.

"What would you do to go there?" she asks. "It's been a dream of yours since you were young, correct? To stand on a stage. To perform. What if I told you that you could be a famous dancer one day?"

Colin watches her, wide-eyed. 

"You'd like that, wouldn't you," she says softly, crouching on the floor to stare at Colin. "You'd love that." 

Silence. Everyone's eyes are glued on the woman and Colin. It's as if a spell has been cast over all of them

Then she straightens up suddenly, turning away from Colin to walk back to the front of the class. "That is the key to seduction," the woman says. "First and foremost; know your target. Know their interests, know their personality. What do they want? Who do they want?"

Her gaze rakes over them. "You are a Faceless One. You have no name; no name except for the ones we give you. You are everything we want you to be. You are everything your target wants you to be. Learn this and you will survive. Otherwise..."

They are eighteen now. Only a few will make it.

He vows to himself that he will be one of those people. 

* * *

He has a friend there.

Perhaps not really a friend. No one truly has friends; that's what their teachers have taught them. But if she is not his friend, what is she?

An ally, he decides. Someone he can stand next to and trust she has his back.

It might not be for long, though. 

Aspen is bright. Caring, even though she shouldn't be. It's dangerous to care.

She will be one of them who dies, he knows. It's a fact, solemn in its finality. Or she will change, and become coldhearted like he is. But then they will no longer be allies.

He prays that she does not die.

"Hi," she says when he sits next to her. He nods.

"Hello," he says. They sit together in silence, broken only by the sounds of chewing and the muted murmurs of the people around them.

"What's in this bread?" Aspen asks softly. "It tastes like porridge. I don't think people make porridge bread."

His lip twitches. "I don't know."

She smiles. It's small and only there for a brief second. He can't help but think that Aspen is the only person who he's ever seen smile in this place. She's bright. Brighter than all of them.

"I wanna see the stars," Aspen murmurs. "It would be nice. Have you seen the stars?"

He doesn't think he has. If he has, he can't remember it.

"Me neither," Aspen says softly. She takes a bite of her bread, then sets it down and picks up a spoon. "I wonder what they put in the porridge this ti-"

He tenses suddenly, tapping her leg and tilting his head towards the door. Her eyes flick towards the door quickly and she immediately stops talking, ducking her head and continuing to eat. He does the same.

Silence spreads over the table as footsteps move towards them.

"You would do well to not criticize the food," the matroness rumbles. "Food is a privilege. There are people out there on the streets who would be infinitely thankful to be in your place right now. Eat."

The matroness stops right behind Aspen and he sees her tense, face turning blank. It's a direct threat and he knows somehow; she's going to die soon. She's been singled out. That's not good.

Later that night, when they're getting ready for bed, he discretely taps her on the shoulders and mouthes, _Let's go see the stars._

It's dangerous. But her smile is worth it.

* * *

They're outside, training in a courtyard. They move as one to the calls of their instructor. Blades flash in the sunlight. 

"Stop."

Instantly, everyone lowers their knives. They turn towards the instructor.

"Two people; come up and spar," the instructor says. His gaze sweeps over them. "Aspen Lorenthal. Dane Tyren."

_Aspen._

He hopes she'll be okay. She can hold her own, but against Dane? Dane's the biggest out of all of them and Aspen is slim as a twig. He could probably break Aspen in half.

Aspen and Dane walk up to stand in front of the instructor. Automatically, everyone forms a ring around the two. He watches, butterflies in his stomach, as Aspen and Dane both slip into a fighting stance. Aspen holds her blade steadily in front of her, balancing on the balls of her feet.

"Go!" the instructor barks and right away Aspen darts forward, aiming for Dane's leg. Dane sidesteps, swinging his knife down and Aspen manages to block it in time. The two separate, circling each other like wolves.

He watches with baited breath, gripping the handle of his knife tightly. The two are extremely different. Aspen is light on her feet, aiming for Dane's legs and arms to cripple Dane. Dane is defensive, watching Aspen with wary eyes and striking as soon as she gets close. If Dane manages to catch Aspen, he knows, she will lose.

And she loses.

None of them are fighters. They're all omegas-they're simply not built for it. They're made to seduce, to spy, not for one-on-one combat. The training is only so that if they get into a sticky situation, they can escape with the info. 

But Dane?

Dane is built bulkier than all of them. He can take hits easily and is surprisingly fast when need be. Aspen just doesn't stand a chance. She blocks one of Dane's blows and strikes Dane's knee with her elbow. Dane exhales sharply, but doesn't collapse and grabs Aspen's wrist, flipping her with a grunt and putting his knife to Aspen's throat.

Silence reigns across the courtyard. He doesn't breathe, gripping the handle of his own knife tightly and watching Aspen. He hopes that the instructor can't tell how he feels.

"Well?" the instructor says finally. "Finish it."

Dane inhales sharply, looking at the instructor in shock. "What?" he whispers. 

"Finish it," the instructor says coldly, "or I will."

Aspen stares up at Dane defiantly, but doesn't attempt to strike Dane. 

_Slash his_ _knee,_ he wants to yell. _Do something. Break out. Don't let him kill you._

He'd known this would happen. So why does it still feel so horrifying?

Dane stares at Aspen, then with a swift motion slits her throat.

His head feels numb. He stares at Aspen. 

_She's dead. She was my friend._

"Good job, Dane," the instructor says. Dane drops the knife (on Aspen's body and a surge of fury rises up in him) and stumbles back, clutching his chest.

"Friendship is weakness," the instructor continues. He swears that the instructor is looking straight at him, smiling all the while.

He stares back.

"People will turn on you. People will betray you," the instructor says, looking away. "Don't rely on the goodness of people, because there is none."

Silence once more. Aspen's empty eyes stare fiercely at the sky.

They're seventeen, now.

* * *

Four left.

He's one of them. A true Faceless One.

They've given him a name. No, not a name. A title.

_Osika._

He hates it. He hates the name, hates his status, hates what he has become. He's survived, but at what cost?

He's started getting independent missions now. Simple ones. Slip a little Sarlice powder into one person's cup, seduce another one into revealing some important info. It's easy. He's done all it before.

~~He dry heaves into the toilet once it's over but that doesn't matter.~~

One day, he's given a new mission.

"You are to find and seduce Nolan Jacks for what he knows on the Lamarck project," the Phantom says, handing him a small vial of white powder. He uncaps it and takes a small whiff. Agliashell powder. A long-term sleep agent that also had the handy side effect of removing the victim's inhibitions and inducing a drunken-like state.

"Once you have obtained the information, you shall kill him and report back to us," the Phantom continues. 

_Kill...him?_

"Dismissed," the Phantom says, turning away. He nods jerkily, capping the vial and walking away. 

_Don't think about it,_ he tells himself. _Maybe I can just slip the guy a little poison. Painless. Done._

_But with the Agliashell in his system...._

The mission goes well up until he has to kill Jacks. He tails Jack for a few weeks, making a careful note of the locations Jacks liked to frequent, Jacks' interests, and the types of people Jacks' seemed to like. Then he prepares his alias. He is Elisha Rouse, a shy brunet omega who, coincidentally, has an interest in chemistry.

When Jacks goes to the Las Deux nightclub, he follows. He 'accidentally' bumps into Jacks, apologizes and stutters and makes a point of showing his neck once or twice. Jacks, predictably, plays right into his hands.

He slips the powder into Jacks' drink and waits. Jacks, unsurprisingly, extends him an invitation to go home. He agrees, making sure to stutter a few times and shift nervously.

The powder really takes effect once they reach Jacks' house. Jacks fumbles with his keys but manages to get the door open and they enter. He's starting to drift off, murmuring things about 'Elisha's' beauty. They make it to a couch and he deposits Jacks there.

"What do you know about the Lamarck project?" he asks, voice pitched to be almost like a purr. Comforting. Hypnotizing.

"Mmm..." Jacks murmurs. "It's a big project...wanna make a weapon using a strain o' the Treptid virus...s'like a bomb..." He's asleep now, slumped over on a leather couch.

He's going to have to kill Jacks. Those were his orders.

Maybe he could search the house first. For research. Documents. Files.

He finds a USB stick labeled 'LP' and nothing else. He pockets it, then brushes a finger over the knife hidden in his jacket.

Jacks is sleeping peacefully when he returns to the couch. He takes out the knife. The blade gleams under the incandescent lights, its purity a mockery of its purpose.

_Just slit his throat. Quick. Simple. He won't feel a thing._

_Follow your orders._

It's terribly fast. One quick swipe and Jacks is dead, pulse slowing until it stops. A trickle of blood leaks out onto Jacks' shirt.

Done. Dead simple.

He cleans away any evidence, feeling numb. He wants to vomit.

Somehow, he makes it back to the base. The Phantom is waiting there, watching him with a blank look.

"Well?"

"The Lamarck project is to build a biochemical weapon," he says blankly. "It's a bomb and uses the Treptid virus." He takes out the USB stick, hands it over. The Phantom takes it with a nod.

"Good job, _Osika,_ " the Phantom says. "Dismissed."

And that's it. It's over. Nolan Jacks is dead and there's no trace of the killer.

He actually vomits this time.

* * *

In all his years as a Faceless One, he's taken on many names. Elisha. Steven. Jonah. Jasper. He's been everyone and no one at the same time.

The most dangerous thing about seduction missions is that you actually turn into a person. You start to truly connect with the target. You start to truly become the person whose face you are wearing.

It's never happened to him.

"There is a new organization on the rise," the Phantom says. "They are targeting us. Several of our members have been killed."

He nods, waiting.

"You and several others are to infiltrate this organization," the Phantom continues. "You are to seduce a woman going by the name of Elia Serrano. Your name will be Aiden Haruka and you are a new employee at the Marvel Technology Incorporation. You will deliver information about the organization to your fellow Faceless Ones and help them infiltrate this organization."

He nods. It's a long term mission. He's done those before. 

It starts off simple. A mission, nothing more. Elia Serrano is a high-ranking agent, but he is simply Aiden Haruka, a new PR employee at the Marvel Tech. Corp. He's not a threat; in fact, he's quite charismatic and charming, with a love for writing. 

Elia is very careful and it's difficult to seduce her. But he's done this before. He can do this.

Somewhere between their first date and his first visit to her house, he starts to actually like Elia.

It doesn't matter. It doesn't matter. This is an infiltration mission, nothing more.

But the more time they spend together, the more he starts to hate himself. The more he starts to hate what he's doing. Every bit of information he gathers, every bit he reveals to the Faceless Ones, feels like a betrayal.

He's never been a person who likes the light. He lives in the shadows. But she is so bright.

"What are you thinking about, Aiden?" she asks one day, carding gentle fingers through his hair. He enjoys her touch too much, he knows, but still he craves it.

"A story," he says simply. "I have an idea. It's slowly coming to life, but I haven't quite developed it fully yet."

"Your stories are beautiful," she says softly. "I'm sure this one will be wonderful."

He smiles. He smiles and it's real.

"Thank you."

This is dangerous. He should stop. She's a target.

He's drawn to her anyway.

* * *

In the end, it won't matter.

His colleagues are easy to kill. He'd thought it would be harder. Guess they underestimated him.

Everything's ready. He can leave. He has contacts. He'll make a new life, far away from the Faceless Ones, far away from Elia.

Downstairs, the lock clicks. The door opens. Footsteps.

He should move. He should get out. 

He stays there, sitting on her bed, watching his reflection in his knife. It's a pure, polished silver. No sign of the blood it had spilled.

The crest of the Faceless Ones is easy to recognize.

"Aiden?" Elia calls out. "You upstairs?"

He doesn't respond. He sets the knife down, crosses his hands over his chest, and waits.

The house is silent.

And then Elia appears in the doorway. "Aiden!" she says, sounding relieved. Then her eyes narrow. 

In two strides, she's in front of him and picking up the knife. 

He watches as her face transforms, from happiness to confusion to surprise to hurt.

"You-"

He doesn't say anything. What is there to say?

"You killed them, didn't you," she says. Her voice is low. Soft. And completely unemotional.

In the blink of an eye, a knife is at his throat. He doesn't flinch-he expected this.

"I should slit your throat," she says coldly. "Right here and now."

He looks at her steadily, keeping his hands crossed. Watching her. Waiting.

Her hand trembles. The knife blade digs a little deeper. It stings.

And then she lowers the knife and stares at him, fury written across her face. "Who are you?!" she demands. "Tell me!"

"I'm no one," he says quietly.

She laughs. She laughs and it's so different from her normal happy laugh that he nearly flinches. "Those agents, were they no one as well?" she says, staring straight into his eyes. "I bet you didn't feel remorse, did you?"

"They were Faceless Ones," he says simply.

She stops cold. "What?"

"I was given a mission years ago," he says. "Infiltrate your organization. Me and a few others. Those agents were my colleagues."

She stares at him, then takes a deep breath. "You have one minute," she says coldly. "Explain. Everything."

"I was supposed to seduce you," he says bluntly. "Elia Serrano, high ranking agent of the KHG. Your organization was a threat to the Faceless Ones. I would seduce you, and feed information to the Faceless Ones. I would help my colleagues infiltrate the KHG."

"Right under my own nose," she mutters bitterly. 

"I killed them today," he continues. "The Faceless Ones will know this soon, if not already. You are in danger. So am I."

"And the information? What you were giving them?" she asks.

"It started off as true," he says. "Then I started lying."

She nods. "Alright. Alright. What are we going to do?"

He doesn't know.

She stands there for a second, flipping her knife. "You're going to come with me," she declares suddenly. "We're going to the KHG base. You won't do anything funny, or I will slit your throat. Hand over any weapons you have on your person."

Without hesitation, he fishes out a vial of poison and hands it to her. It's called suicide poison amongst the Faceless Ones-if you ever get caught, swallow it. He pulls out a pocketknife from a hidden pocket and hands it to her as well.

"You'll tell my superiors everything you know," she says. 

"And then?" he asks.

"I don't know," she says.

That's fair, he supposes.

"Alright," she says. "Let's go."

The drive to the KHG is reasonably long. Elia makes several detours, aiming to throw off people who he points out as possible Faceless Ones. She's quite good at it too, he notes.

"Elia," her boss says, sounding exhausted. "Who's this?"

He's pushed forwards by Elia. "Tell him," she hisses.

He takes a deep breath. Is he going to really throw it away? What he's done all his life, all for one person?

Not just for one person, he tells himself. Aspen, too. All the people who he'd killed. All the people who'd had to die.

"I have information on the Faceless Ones," he says. Elia's boss sits up, all signs of exhaustion gone.

"Tell me everything," Elia's boss says.

And he does.

* * *

"What's your real name?" he asks one day. They're sitting on the couch of their new home. 

"My real name?" she says. "It's Jayvyn."

"Spark," he says. She nods, smiling softly. 

It's a fitting name.

"What's yours?" she asks. 

A simple question. But one that makes him pause.

He's been a Faceless One for so long that he's almost forgotten his real name. He's never had a name to himself, only names that were given. He's only ever been who others want him to be. A shadow of a real person.

But he's not a Faceless One anymore, is he.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," Jayvyn says gently. "It's okay."

He searches deep in his mind. What's his name? Not Aiden. Not Jasper. Not Jonah, not Steven, not Elisha. Those are false.

"My name is Rylan," he says.

"Rylan," she says. "I like it." And she smiles, bright like the sun.

He might be a creature of the shadows and she might be a creature of the light. But that doesn't mean that he can't stand in the sunlight.

He smiles back.


End file.
